


A Lifetime of Song

by Bellflower



Category: Samurai Warriors (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: trope_bingo, Draws from the third mainline game's portrayals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellflower/pseuds/Bellflower
Summary: Either Mitsuhide was so unaware he'd never given name to what flowed between them, or Mitsuhide did not, in fact, love Motochika in the way Motochika had always been certain he did.Couldn't be true, but...Two decades of ceaseless pining was enough. They'd lived good lives, there was nothing to regret, but it was also time to correct course.
Relationships: Akechi Mitsuhide/Chousokabe Motochika
Kudos: 8
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Sixteen





	A Lifetime of Song

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'inspired by art' prompt, which I messed with in a few different ways.

Motochika had been in love with his best friend for over twenty years and never said it outright. Staying quiet had never been his style, not ever, and usually he'd be direct about such matters... but when it came to _this_ he'd always wanted to leave it to Mitsuhide to determine the beats of their love affair. It was the best option, the right way to respect the soulmate he'd chosen so firmly all that time ago, and in the meantime he'd never failed to express the depth of his feeling through loving support and constant vivid song. Their friendship had stayed strong through struggles and moves, through family dramas and torrid romances with other souls, through moments of transcendent joy and tearful despair... and Motochika had never resented any of that.

That didn't mean, of course, that he hadn't felt jealous at times.

That was the name for what it really was, because envy was the yearning one felt for something one didn't have... and Motochika _knew_ Mitsuhide was in love with him like he knew the beat of his own heart, that strong and unwavering drum in his chest. So sometimes, over their shared years, he'd look over and the feelings would swell. He'd remember Mitsuhide was with another and feel the sting instead, then work through it by throwing himself into his shamisen, turning the pain, the pining, the overwhelming want into powerful music instead; the cry of his soul woven into a tapestry of sound, clear as day yet still disguised. That way it never bled out and caused any hurt, letting him remain the pillar in his friend's life while also offering a hand to the others that Mitsuhide loved (or, sometimes, the harsh bluntness they'd brought on themselves, because Motochika was the cutting edge to Mitsuhide's silk when it came to such matters).

Years had come and gone. They were men stepping into their forties. For the first time in forever they were both single and had worked through anything that they'd needed to, and yet still, _still_ , Mitsuhide hadn't said a word.

Motochika now had to admit it. He'd never spend time ruminating on mistakes of the past but learning from it was wise, and upon examination, maybe the unthinkable was actually true... maybe he'd gotten it wrong. Either Mitsuhide was so unaware he'd never given name to what flowed between them, or Mitsuhide did not, in fact, love Motochika in the way Motochika had always been certain he did. 

Couldn't be true, but...

Two decades of ceaseless pining was enough. They'd lived good lives, there was nothing to regret, but it was also time to correct course. He put down his shamisen.

“Oh... done already?” said Mitsuhide, looking a little confused. “It was beautiful, of course, but... it felt a little unfinished?”

“It's not, but I'll play it in full another time.”

Motochika strode across the room and sank to the floor at Mitsuhide's side, leaning back and stretching out his legs. There was nothing unusual about this particular meeting; they met up often and all over, planned and unplanned, and today's time together in Motochika's home had happened for the sole and common reason of Motochika writing a new song and wanting his friend to come over and hear it. The important conversation now incoming had not been planned at all, born from a thought that had taken hold during the midst of the performance, but it was as good a time as any. 

The anticipation was already building in his chest, fuelled by a powerful hope (and, hard as it was to admit to himself, something far less sure as well).

“Are you annoyed, my friend?” Motochika glanced over, smirking slightly. “Do you feel denied?”

“It would have been nice to hear it, of course.” Mitsuhide hesitated for a moment before shifting, turning to sit so they were face to face. “But I know I'll hear it another time. I'm more concerned about you... is everything okay? You aren't the sort to cut _yourself_ off mid-performance.”

“Perceptive, Mitsuhide.”

“So there is something wrong? Please, if there is...”

“Nothing's wrong.”

“But you just implied...”

“There's nothing wrong, but there _is_ something important I want to tell you.”

Concern had quickly settled into Mitsuhide's lovely face as they'd talked and it only increased now; he was frowning, eyes wide, fingers curling against the floor as he leaned forward. There was really no need for that reaction, he knew Motochika so well he had to understand how he'd act when something was truly worth getting upset over, but, well, Mitsuhide wouldn't be Mitsuhide if he didn't worry excessively. 

A trait both concerning and endearing.

Gentle warmth flooded Motochika's chest; he sat up and reached out to grab his friend's hand, an intimate gesture completely normal for them. Less normal was the way Motochika then drew it in against his chest, pressing it above his heart and smiling a lot more softly. That did absolute wonders in wiping away the vision of concern.

Mitsuhide looked... confused instead, though he slowly started blush. So Motochika raised his beloved's hand and kissed it, a fond gesture aimed at pushing the still-unspoken message as well as some simple kind of reassurance. _That_ set the blush to fierce. Mitsuhide opened his lovely mouth as if to speak but after a lingering moment, a beat of stillness, pressed his bow-lips back together and leaned in further instead, making an uncertain sound in the back of his throat. It was an enquiry, a nervous question from someone fearful of being direct about it, but despite being a question it proved to be an answer as well. The air had turned hot and heavy, full of familiar tension, in just a handful of seconds.

'Familiar' was the most important part... this had happened before. How could Motochika have wavered in his faith in this man's feelings when such overwhelming and blatant want had flowed between them so often? Never again.

He tugged at their joined hands and watched Mitsuhide's expression soften. Watched the last flickers of uncertainty fade out, saw what had to be a reflection of his own happiness, marvelled at the small but radiant smile and felt an _extremely_ rare moment of shock when Mitsuhide followed the tug but immediately leaned in for a kiss. No amount of time and age had managed to eliminate the streak of mild shyness that one might expect to prevent such an initiation... ah, but he was a rebel too beneath the prim and proper exterior. There'd been rebellions against parts of his own nature on many occasion! It was part of why Motochika loved him as dearly as he did.

Excellent.

The first few kisses were gentle and testing, sweet as sugar, but they quickly became much more energised and frantic; this moment felt like victory, like fire in all of its most brilliant aspects burning through their bodies, and all of that fuelled by years and years of never acting on the urge was creating something akin to a bonfire. They grew closer, pressed flush against one another's bodies, and 'few' kisses quickly turned into 'many' as they ended up rolling over onto the floor in one desperately happy mess. Mitsuhide laughed and it was the most beautiful sound Motochika thought he'd ever heard, so he grinned widely before tugging his dear friend right back in for another flurry of kisses; that way he could swallow the sounds down to keep for himself. 

No words were said out loud for quite some time after, not even the important ones, though it most certainly wasn't quiet. Mitsuhide, as it turned out, lost much of his composure when touched and that resulted in the most delightful kind of 'music.'

“I have an idea for a new song,” Motochika said hours later, idly swirling his cup as he did so. “You might need to give up on hearing the one I cut off... this fresh creation is lighting up my soul.”

“You always put it so dramatically...” Mitsuhide replied softly; he had gotten dressed to make them hot drinks but only partially so in underwear and one of Motochika's baggier t-shirts, which meant that his long, lovely legs were still fully exposed. “It's a shame, my dear, but I am always excited for a new creation of yours.”

“This one's very special, Mitsuhide. It's inspired by other works of art...”

“Oh?”

“You. Us.” Motochika smirked and tugged Mitsuhide back in close, free hand settling on bare thigh. “A long story that worked up to a grand symphony, now with accompanying visuals... how could it not inspire something new? I've captured our moments before but this will reflect it all.”

“Ah. I see.” A brief pause then yes, Mitsuhide blushed again as his head tipped onto Motochika's shoulder. “That does sound wonderful. When you say you've captured moments before, though, do you mean some of your older music was about us? I never realised.”

“I know. Don't worry about it, Mitsuhide.”

“It's hard not to...”

“I know that as well.”

Motochika kissed the crown of Mitsuhide's head, marvelling at their love, at the vast everything they shared that he'd almost lost faith in. Basked in the shared warmth, at every point of contact between their bodies. There'd be no more music born from jealousy (and jealousy it had been for sure, he knew now) but inking down the notes that spoke of those times as part of their history would be a delight, considering where it had led.

“And I love that part of you as much as I love the whole.”

“...and I love you as well.” Mitsuhide sounded shy but content. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“You already know that it is was, don't you?” Motochika laughed softly, putting his cup aside and closing his eye. “I've already said it, as have you, through the language of our bodies.”

“Well. Yes. I suppose we have.”

The conversation shifted into something much more casual after another shy pause, which itself lapsed into complete quiet after a while. Motochika started to hum softly to himself once he felt his lover's body shift into sleep, working this moment, too, into the song in his head.

Those decades of pining had not been for nothing. He could not regret. Mitsuhide wasn't curled up next to another anymore; he was right at Motochika's side, warm and comfortable and happy, and while there were certainly more conversations they needed to have? Those could wait for another day.

Because Mitsuhide did, in fact, love Motochika in the way Motochika had always been certain he did.


End file.
